Waking Up

Donald Trump became the president-elect on the day I moved to Mendocino. I drove my car, packed to the gills with boxes, for three hours, ruminating on all the ways our country would be effected by this deplorable man. On what should have been a very exciting three hour drive, I was instead repeatedly brought to tears. This feels like a national disaster. Like I said on facebook that day, this feels like every bad man I’ve ever known was just given a boy’s-club-style pat on back. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.

For a moment of sheer selfish narcissism, I was angry that this great day of me following my dreams and moving to Mendocino was tainted. But then, I walked into my new cabin in the woods and thought, “this move represents a new me,” and I changed my tune.

I was too young to vote in the Gore/Bush election, and by W’s second term I was still pretty naive and allowed myself to live in my privileged little liberal bubble. I didn’t protest. I sometimes didn’t vote. I didn’t read about politics. My understanding of politics pretty much ended at “George W. Bush is bad.”

But the last year of my life has been all about waking up. Not giving bad men the power they desire. About standing up for myself and the people around me. Learning about systemic racism and sexism. I’ve finally found my voice to fight in my personal life. And now I’m going to use those skills to fight against this impending government’s oppression for all who suffer. My first day in this cabin is my first day as a true fighter.

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